


here comes the sun

by becuille



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Domestic, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, post 3x02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becuille/pseuds/becuille
Summary: “You know, in the Victorian age, carnations were used as a secret code in messages to lovers."





	here comes the sun

Alec arrives at Magnus’ loft, letting himself in. Magnus is nowhere to be seen, there’s no food cooking and no drink waiting out for him, but there’s music left playing coming from the bedroom, some light piano. Alec follows it.

“Ah, just in time,” Magnus says, emerging in just a thin silk robe left open just a little. His face still lights up at Alec’s arrival. “I was just running a bath. Care to join me?”

“Sure, why not.” He has had a long day, and any idea Magnus has is usually a good one, he’s learned. He follows him through to the bathroom, to where the clawfoot bath is already full, tendrils of steam rising invitingly.

“After you,” Magnus says, gesturing with his hand. “I won’t be a minute.”

Alec strips out of his clothes, making half an effort to fold them, draping them across a counter and tucking his shoes underneath it. He tests the water first, but of course it’s just right, then slides in. The hot water eases the strain he’s been holding in his body all day almost immediately, and he sighs, letting his head fall back against the porcelain.

Magnus is still pottering around the bathroom, gathering towels and some soaps of some kind and places them just within reach. When he starts waving his hand to light candles, Alec laughs.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna add some rose petals,” Alec teases. Magnus pauses like he might have considered it. “Hey, come on,” he urges him.

Magnus does as he’s told. He unties his robe and it drops to the floor, and finally he climbs in, settling himself in between Alec’s legs. There’s enough room comfortably for the two of them, but Magnus shuffles back as close as he can get them both.

They relax there for a minute. Magnus’ chest rises and falls, smooth skin moving just a little against his, his head resting on Alec’s shoulder. 

“Could you wash me?” Magnus asks.

“Mmhmm.”

Alec picks up the glass bottle of Magnus’ amber coloured shampoo that Alec has been helping himself to for months. 

“Not that one. I save that for you.” He reaches across for another bottle, pale lilac and iridescent in a more simple bottle, his body stretching long and lithe and cat like.

Magnus pops off the top of the vial, and the scent is so obviously, memorably Magnus. He’s associated it with him in a way he didn’t even realise. It brings forward memories of lazy mornings wrapped in his sheets, knees knocking under tables in upscale New York bars, bubbles of laughter as one catches the other cheating at pool for the hundredth time. 

“What smell is that?” Alec asks as Magnus passes it to him. He doesn’t possess Magnus’ keen nose and interest in herbs and perfumery, and can’t put his finger on it. Something floral and fresh, but at the same time deep and warm. 

“My own personal shampoo. I believe it is important to have your own signature scent associated with you. Gives you a bit more presence. Go on guess,” he says, as he portions a careful amount into Alec’s palm. 

“Flowers?” Alec hazards, rubbing it between his hands. The lather is thick and luxurious, and the smell fills the bathroom as small bubbles start to form then dissipate. “And is it pepper? I don’t know, something spicy.” 

Magnus wets his head then tips it back onto Alec’s chest, giving him the go ahead. He rubs the lather into his hair, which lies uncharacteristically flat against his head. Magnus hums, either pleased with Alec’s guess or with the attention he’s receiving. 

“Not bad Alexander. Carnations, ylang ylang, lily, pink pepper and paprika. There’s a touch of clove in there too. Don’t worry, we have time to fine tune your olfactory sense. How about a wine tasting later?”

“Sounds good.” 

Sometimes when Magnus brings him along on his arm to events uptown with other warlocks and Downworlders, Alec feels like he’s drowning, catching only half the meaning of a conversation, he laughs when everyone else laughs. When it’s just the two of them, he never feels out of his depth. He awes at Magnus’ breadth of knowledge and interests. He makes Alec want to improve himself to get anywhere near as worldly as he is. 

Alec scrubs at his scalp in little circles, gentler than he might his own when he’s in a hurry. For him it’s usually just in and out of the shower then straight off to work, his hair only just dry stepping out of the elevator in the Institute. Washing hasn’t been top of Alec’s list of favourite pastimes, but Magnus has opened his eyes to a lot of things to slow down and enjoy.

“You know, in the Victorian age, carnations were used as a secret code in messages to lovers. A striped flower meant I can’t be with you right now, solid colour meant yes.”

“I bet you received a lot of those.”

Magnus huffs out half a laugh. Alec runs his fingers along his hairline to just behind his ears, and Magnus murmurs in approval. 

Taking his time, Alec scoops up handfuls of water to rinse him off. Once he’s done and Magnus is clean, the warlock sits up, nimbly rearranges himself so he faces him. He drapes himself over Alec, their wet chests lined up and Magnus’ thighs spreading his own apart. Magnus kisses him wet and slow in gratitude, taking his turn now in pulling the tension from Alec’s body.

  


* * *

  


The following day, back at the Institute, Magnus’ scent permeates from his skin. His hands and his arms bear the brunt of it, so Alec clasps them together behind his back as he runs through the briefing. He tries focusing on his work, and not the clear images the scent brings forth. Languid afternoons in his sun soaked apartment, Magnus sprawling naked across his chest, Alec persuading him to let them eat dinner in bed. It’s only morning, he can’t be wishing to go home already.

“There’s a surprise for you in your office,” Izzy says once everyone else has left, bouncing on the balls of her feet and beaming at him. 

“If it’s additions to my growing stack of paperwork, I’m making an effort to avoid it.”

“It’s not, just go on.”

Alec doesn’t make his way to his office hastily, and opens his door anticipating the worst. Maybe an envoy from the Clave, or worst still, his parents, perhaps. But there’s no one waiting for him inside. Instead, his office is filled with hundreds of red carnations, maybe more. There’s bunches on every surface, his desk, spilling over into the floor, all solid red.

There’s a thick, heavy card propped up on the table, with Magnus’ practiced script swirled across saying “ _Yes, yes, yes_.”

Alec texts him _Yes to what?_ And then adds _Also, flowers? Aren’t we a bit past courting?_

Magnus replies quicker than Alec can text him a third time, because Alec is apparently that kind of boyfriend, who knew. _Yes to everything. A hundred times yes._

**Author's Note:**

> Magnus’ shampoo is based off Serge Lutens’ perfume Vitriol D’œillet.


End file.
